To these remarks, which were taken in no ill part, my interlocutor rejoined with an air of doubt and misgiving,—“Well, probably it may be as you say, señor, and not as I have fancied; but still you must admit, that though I may be under a mistake, I have advanced nothing at variance with reason; and if I think I perceive what you cannot discern, my error may be occasioned by short-sightedness, a complaint from which I have suffered from my childhood, and which, being increased by much reading and no little writing, now afflicts me severely. You must know, señor, that on my departure from the inn, I had with me a very handsome pair of spectacles, but this mischievous animal, instigated, no doubt, by some demon that possesses him, made five or six capers (I will not be certain about the precise number), but by one of them I was thrown into the river, from whence I escaped with a good ducking and the loss of my spectacles.”
So saying, the poor fellow heaved a sigh, which seemed to come from his inmost soul; then, after a brief pause, he said,—“But without further delay, let us withdraw from the burning sunshine, to the cool shade of those broad spreading trees. There I may at least find a truce to the miseries which have this day beset me. We will tie the horse and mule to the trunks of the trees, and let them for a while feast on the grass which, in these parts, affords plentiful pasture for flocks and herds.”
“Be it so,” said I, “and since fate ordains that I am to have the happiness of enjoying your company, here we will tarry until the ardour of Phœbus shall be tempered by the cool breezes of the coming evening.”
“I have,” pursued the bachelor, “brought with me a couple of books wherewith to divert the weary hours of travelling. Both of them contain pleasant entertainment. The one consists of spiritual poetry, better than that of Cepeda.[52] The other is a book of plain prose; and is written with no great judgment or skill. Now had it so happened that instead of going from Madrid to Toledo, we had been journeying from Toledo to Madrid, I could have shewn you two excellent books, which have been sent to me as a present from Señor Arcediano. These books are so full of knowledge, and they treat of so many things that are and may be in the world, that with their help, a man may, without much trouble, become wonderfully wise.”[D]
Having reached the umbrageous spot, where we proposed to rest, we tied up the horse and mule, and seated ourselves on mother-earth. My companion then opened a leathern bag, which contained the books he had spoken of. The first he drew forth had for its title Versos espirituales para la conversión del pecador y para el menosprecio del mundo.[53]
“This is very sweet poetry,” observed I, “and it is embued with a truly Christian spirit. I knew the author of this book—he was a friar of the order of Santo Domingo de Predicadores, at Huete, and his name was Pedro de Ezinas.[E] He was a man of genius, and of much knowledge; qualities manifested in this little work, and in many of his other writings, which are circulated in manuscript, and are much esteemed by the learned.”
“Nevertheless,” said the bachelor, “if I may candidly give my opinion, there is one thing which much offends me in this book. I dislike to see the graceful and pious language befitting to the Christian muse, mingled with the profane phraseology of heathenism. Who can be otherwise than displeased to find the names of God, of the Holy Virgin, and of the Prophets, in conjunction with those of Apollo and Daphne, Pan and Syrinx, Jupiter and Europa, Vulcan, Cupid, Venus and Mars?” He next proceeded to tell me that Father Ezinas, the author of the Versos Espirituales, was himself very fastidious about matters much less objectionable; and he related how annoyed he was, whilst performing mass, by an old woman, who, whenever the Padre repeated the words Dominus vobiscum, devoutly muttered in a croaking voice, Alabado sea Dios.[54] Father Ezinas bore with this patiently, during several days, but at length finding that the venerable Celestina persisted in her devout contumacy, he turned to her angrily, saying:—‘Truly, my good woman, you have spent your long life to little purpose, since you know not how to respond to a Dominus vobiscum, except by an Alabado sea Dios. Now do recollect that though these are very good and very holy words, yet they are unsuitable where you apply them.’
“You are quite right, friend bachelor, in your remarks on the Versos Espirituales of Ezinas. The fault you have pointed out is very objectionable; but with the exception of that fault, the work is one of the best ever written in Castilian verse, and for elevation of style, it may fairly compete with the most esteemed writings of the poets of Italy.”
“Well,” resumed the bachelor, “greatly as you admire the verses of Ezinas, I must confess that they are not so pleasing to me, nor do they sound so harmoniously to my ear, as the poetry of Aldana, or as that of an Aragonian writer, named Alonzo de la Sierra.[F] The latter is a most admirable poet, and his verses seem as if dictated by Apollo and the Nine. But,” pursued he, closing the volume of Ezinas, and drawing forth the other book from his leathern bag,—“here now is a work which, in my judgment, is not worth two ardites.[55] It is full of fooleries and absurdities;—a tissue of extravagant improbabilities:—in short, one of those works which have an injurious effect on the public taste.”